In Which Severus Reads Lips
by ForsakenKalika
Summary: Yet another SkyeMoor prompt drabble. It's the Sorting Ceremony at the Welcoming Feast, and Severus can read lips. T for language and questions/implications of child abuse.


SkyeMoor is relentless in the best way. If this goes to show you anything, it's that prompts are accepted. Seriously. You PM me a prompt, and I'll likely take it and run harder than Forrest Gump with it. Even if it ends up as a drabble, as this and the last did, I will generally try my hand at a request or prompt.

Here it is:

"Severus Snape can read lips. In particular, when Harry Potter was under the Sorting hat, he could see the young lad muttering, "Please not Slytherin..." "

Rating T for language and implication of child abuse

Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

Another year, another gaggle of noisy, sticky First Years. This group was a bit different, he would admit, but not in any positive way. No, this year _her_ son would be joining the ranks of Hogwarts students. Severus sipped his goblet letting his imperial gaze drift over the student body sat at the four long tables in the Great Hall. Yes, in but mere moments, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Infant Banisher of Dark Lords, would shuffle his way through the massive double doors at the back.

Joy of joys.

He turned his head to give Albus a gimlet stare. _Oh bloody hell! Was he drunk?_ The Headmaster's cheeks were rosy, eyes bright where they met Severus', and the bearded man raised his own goblet cheerfully. Possibly drunk, possibly happy. Next to the Head Lush, Flitwick was decidedly _not_ wearing a disappointed frown, so Severus guessed Albus was just… happy.

He shivered. _Bollocks to that_.

The doors opened, Minerva leading the charge of grubby-handed children down the centre aisle, and Severus immediately _knew_ Harry Potter on sight. Gods above, he looked just like his doxy-tickling father. Fantastic. The Potions Master suppressed a sigh. With any luck, the child would have Lily's temperament. Wait. He recalled how volatile his former friend could be under the right circumstances. Was it too much to hope the eleven year-old James Potter clone would break the mold both his parents had cast?

Severus snorted into his goblet. _Probably_.

Minerva called students up one-by-one after the manky Hat had completed its song; an oddly portentous ditty that made Severus' alarmingly darkened Mark itch. Had the musty old thing been stuck in Sybill's incensed presence over the summer? He wouldn't wish that upon anyone, magically sentient accoutrements included.

"Granger, Hermione." _Oh, the poor poppet_ , he mused. Severus would bet the galleons in his vault the puff-headed, buck-toothed girl bouncing up to the stool was bullied throughout her Primary years. He skimmed her mind and rolled his eyes with his findings. If her appearance and name didn't result in schoolyard taunts, the fact that she was a know-it-all would secure it. _Great_.

With a cry of Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw as the Hat had initially wanted, the girl with the chestnut Pygmy Puff hair flounced off to join her house.

More students came and went from beneath the enchanted accessory until, finally, Lily's - _James',_ he growled mentally - child was next up.

"Potter, Harry." Whispers traversed through the Hall as students took notice of the tiny boy who had felled the Darkest wizard since Grindelwald ten years past. When the child reached the front to sit upon the stool, Severus noted his appearance. _Gods, he looked sickly_. He knew Petunia had been places as the boy's ward, despite the magical documentation stating three other households he could've been placed in, but… were they even feeding him? Potter's flinch when Minerva placed the Hat upon his head spoke of physical abuse, as well.

Regardless of Severus' feelings about the young man's parentage, the idea that his former best friend's shrew of a sister had laid even a finger upon her nephew made the sour man's blood boil. He pushed those thoughts aside to discuss them with Albus later and concentrated on the figure atop the stool. He was mouthing something.

Severus squinted a bit, lowering his head to look between strands of his lanky hair. It looked like… _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin._ Offense filled him. What was wrong with Slytherin? Attention directed toward his House, Severus' shoulders drooped beneath his frock coat when he took in his godson's sneer and Flint's less than debonair visage.

 _Oh._ Even so, he was a bit happy that Potter was asking to be placed out of his House, as that would have made his own mission - _missions_ \- just that much more difficult. How could one simultaneously serve The Dark Lord and protect the boy wizard who had felled him if Severus was also said boy's Head of House? No, if the Fates had any love for Severus at all, Potter would end up in Ravenclaw or-

"Better be Gryffindor!"

 _Damn it._


End file.
